Epitome
by Idrelle Miocovani
Summary: The ex-mercenary and the journalist belligerently insist on disagreeing with each other, but simple conversation may allow them to consider each other's point of views.


**A/N: **A while ago, I signed up for a writing challenge on another site where you were given a quote that was either the first line or the last line of a film, and you had to work that quote into a story. My quote was _"Everything you know about desire is dead wrong" (_from_ In the Cut). _It took me forever to find the right thing to write about, but after watching _Blood Diamond,_ I found it. Enjoy!

(The rating is for language, because I wasn't sure how many explicit words were allowed on a T rating.)

* * *

**Epitome**

Maddy Bowen revelled in high-intensity situations. When she was living through them, fear wracked her body, but she never let it take control; she focused solely on the things that mattered in the moment, such as moving from point A to point B, wherein point B was safe and point A was not. There wasn't much time to consider anything else except pure human survival instinct.

It was not fun. Adrenaline junkie or not, it was _not_ fun. Maddy had spoken to extreme sports enthusiasts, who insisted that their way of getting an adrenaline rush was comparable to hers. She could never manage to convince them that they were wholly and completely wrong: her work was much more dangerous than any extreme sport. When you went willingly into the crossfire, when you put yourself in the situation where you were seconds away from getting hit by a stray bullet – _that_ was something no words could ever describe. That sharp, tingle of fear and the basic human need to flee could never be replicated.

She hated the feeling. She despised it; it made her feel nauseous and sickened in a way nothing else ever could. But whenever she went back to America – back to the world of celebrity gossip and Starbucks lattés – she always felt that she was missing something.

She was missing the terror. She was missing that feeling she hated – and she always managed to find some way back to it.

Back to a constant state of crisis.

_Some crisis,_ Maddy thought as she wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. She didn't even want to think about how closely the RUF had come to killing them just a few hours ago. If it hadn't been for Archer, she was certain they would never have made it.

He was ahead of her now, carving the way through the jungle even as dusk began to fall. The ex-mercenary-turned-smuggler was a conundrum. Though the driving force behind his actions was Solomon's diamond, he acted as though he _purposefully _put on such a vile, avaricious demeanour. Maddy has met his kind before – men who were insistent on presenting a tough, macho exterior, intent on being the most despicable sort of human being imaginable for the worst reasons.

It was an act. It was always an act. If anything, her years as a journalist had taught her that no one could be their true self before others; everyone wore a mask, for one reason or another. She knew Archer had the capability of becoming a better man than he was. Whether past traumas would let him accept that fact or not would be the question.

Maddy shouldered her bag, doing her best to ignore the cramps forming in her legs. Beside her, Solomon walked silently. He was not much of a conversationalist – or perhaps he was still in shock after what had happened. Maddy could not be sure; she doubted he had ever expected he would be travelling through the wilderness of his country with a white man and a woman, trying to avoid being gunned down by chaos-seeking rebels.

Up ahead, Archer suddenly stopped. "Here," he said, turning around and walking back towards them.

"Here what?"

"We're stopping here."

Maddy watched him pace around the small clearing. He never stopped moving, did he?

"Really?"

He glanced at her. "Ja. You're exhausted, Maddy."

"Huh." She folded her arms. "Strange to hear that coming from you."

He snorted. "Don't take that the wrong way. I've staked a lot on keeping you and Solomon alive, and I'll have a damn harder time doing that tomorrow if you're too tired to walk."

Maddy frowned and let her bag slip off her shoulder. It fell to the ground with a muffled _thump._ Crouching beside it, she pulled a couple of granola bars out of the side pocket and tossed one to Solomon. He murmured his thanks.

"Do you want one?" she asked Archer, sitting down beside her bag.

He shrugged, searching his pockets for a cigarette. Coming up empty-handed, he wandered over to her. "D'you have a smoke?"

She raised her eyebrows. "No, of course not. Don't you remember?"

He scowled. "Well, I'm not a fucking journalist, now am I?"

She ignored him and held up the granola bar. After glaring at her for good few seconds, he swiped it out of her hand and bit into it hungrily. Maddy sighed, and fetched her canteen. Despite saving her life earlier today, he was impossibly frustrating. Unscrewing the cap, she tilted her head and gulped down a mouthful of water. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Archer saunter off to gather firewood.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked him as he passed by her for the third time, dumping wood on the jungle floor.

"If you don't want to be freezing cold tonight, ja."

"Won't it attract attention?"

He shot her one of those sharp looks of his, a sign he wanted her to be quiet. "I know what I'm doing, Maddy. Those thugs aren't going to find us, trust me. Now stop asking stupid questions and get some rest, or you'll be in no shape to move in the morning."

Maddy waved that comment aside and left him to his work.

It was rapidly growing darker. The trees became little more than a tangle of black shadows encircling them, faint silvery moonlight puncturing the gaps in the leafy canopy above, the natural sounds of the jungle their only company. However, sometimes Maddy thought she could hear gunfire in the distance. Whether it was real or imaginary, she couldn't tell, but she was far too jumpy to try to sleep now. She wished they had gotten a little further away from the site of the ambush.

Solomon was sitting at the base of a tree, staring blankly ahead. He didn't look when Maddy approached; even as she sat down beside him, he merely nodded in acknowledgement.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes. I am… worried." He looked at her. "Not about me. I do not think they will find us. Mr Archer knows what he is doing."

"Hm."

"My son was taken by them," Solomon said abruptly.

"I know."

"He has become one of them. One of those monsters who do nothing but kill."

"I know," Maddy said quietly, "I'm so sorry—"

"I pray he will have the strength and courage to withstand them."

"If he is anything like you, I'm sure he will," Maddy said, attempting a small smile.

Solomon was quiet for a moment. In the middle of the clearing, Archer swore loudly as he burnt himself coaxing flames out of his (rather pathetic) fire.

"Thank you," Solomon said.

"I mean it," Maddy said. "Really."

"I know. You are a good person, Maddy."

Maddy smiled and stood up. "You should sleep," she said. "We no doubt have a long day tomorrow."

He nodded, his eyes closing.

Maddy crossed the clearing to where she left her pack and sat down, pulling her legs into her chest. Stretching out a hand, she smiled as she felt the warmth from the small flames of the fire waft across her skin.

The many places she had been. The many places she would go. Afghanistan, Bosnia, Sierra Leone – they were all the same, down at the core. People lived, people died. They laughed and cried. Families were bound by love, then mercilessly broken and shattered, then found their way back together.

People killed each other for clashing ideals or political views or religions as readily as for bread and water.

People killed each other for diamonds they had never seen. That was how it was here in Africa, and it broke her heart. This beautiful continent was brutally forsaken; one war would only follow another, and the cycle would continue until the land was ravaged forever.

Her throat burned as she stared into the dancing flames. She reached for her canteen, taking a small sip of water that would temporarily satisfy the dryness. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Archer leaning against a tree, his gun still in his hands, his expression darkened by the shadows. If she didn't know better, he could almost appear to be asleep. Almost.

Maddy set down her canteen and stood up.

"You should take your own advice," she said, walking over to him.

"Someone has to keep watch." He didn't look at her.

"And that's a responsibility we can't share?"

He stared at her, something of an incredulous look on his face, and then snorted. "Ja, sure. Good one. Very funny."

Maddy crossed her arms. "So, you're one of those 'do-it-yourself' kind of guys. Can't trust anyone else for a job you can do, right?"

She didn't mean it as a question, but he took it that way anyhow.

"Christ, do I look like I want to be interviewed right now, huh?"

She smirked. "Sorry. Second nature."

"Ja, ja." He looked thoroughly irritated. "Just… go over there and go to sleep, Maddy."

"I'm not tired."

"So you're going to bother me instead?"

"Well," she said, glancing about the clearing, "you're the only person I can talk to right now, other than myself. And speaking from experience, talking to yourself is not particularly useful."

"Huh. And how long did it take for you to figure that one out, huh?"

"It's a work in progress." She sighed, staring into the flames. "How long do you think will we be out here for?"

"What's the matter? Prospect of a few days without comfort got your knickers in a twist?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Do you really think I'm that delicate? It was a serious question. I can handle it."

"All right," he said, holding up his hands for a truce. "All right. I meant nothing by it, huh? Just a good, honest joke to lighten the mood."

"Are you always this cavalier?" she snapped.

"Oh, and she's using the big words now." He chuckled. "Big journalist, big words, huh?"

Maddy rolled her eyes. "Archer."

He stared at her for a moment. "You really don't know what a smile is, do you? Christ, woman, lighten up." His foot kicked the ground and a cloud of dirt ballooned outwards, drifting towards the flickering flames of the nearby fire. "The answer to your first question," he said after a moment, "is that I don't know. We're in the middle of nowhere, but in my experience there's an awful fucking lot to run into in the middle of nowhere. The answer to your second question—" He stopped. "Well, you'll have to figure that one out on your own, now, ja?"

Maddy gave up. She was becoming accustomed to the fact that it took a lot of work and patience to reason with him. "Thanks. Very helpful," she said, sitting down by the fire. "What do you want, Archer?" she asked after a moment.

"What?"

She looked up at him. "What do you want? Simple enough question, really."

"I…" He shrugged. "I dunno."

"Don't know or don't want to say?"

He observed her for a moment. "You know, I have an idea," he said, putting away the gun.

"What?"

"How about I ask the questions for once."

Maddy raised an eyebrow. "All right," she said.

"Good." He clapped his hands together and sat down beside her. "What do you want, Maddy?"

She shook her head. "No, no, no, you're not allowed to steal my question."

"Well, if it's a simple question, anyone could come up with it, ja? Then I'm not really stealing, huh?"

Maddy pursed her lips. "It's not—"

"What do you want, Maddy?" Archer said. "What do _you_ think people want?"

She ran a hand through her oily hair. "Well... I would say that it depends on the person. I mean, we all have different wants and desires."

"Ja? Different, huh?"

"And, um." She spread her hands. "From what I've seen, from what I know, that's not entirely true. Even though we're all different, we are still looking for the same thing."

"Which is?"

She shrugged. "Love. Family. Friendship."

He stared at her, flicking his fingers. "Disappointment."

"What?"

"Disappointment," he repeated. "In you, to be specific."

"What? Why?"

"I didn't think you would be such a sap."

She opened her mouth to retort, feeling quite insulted. "I gave you an honest answer—"

"You call that honest?" he scoffed. "Right. Of course, you would. Family and love – that's bloody typical of the west."

She frowned. "All right, then tell me what _isn't_ typical. According to you."

"Ja, ja, and give you another excuse to try to get something out of me, huh?" he snapped, getting up abruptly. "I'm not some bleeding story, all right?" He stalked away, refusing to look at her.

They fell silent, Maddy watching the fire, Archer observing the clearing, their belligerence towards each other almost tangible. Archer's eyes flicked around the space, searching out any signs of trouble. He was so tense – like a coiled spring, ready to snap. How anyone could carry that amount of tension for days on end, Maddy did not know.

Maddy lifted her head and rubbed the back of her neck while she looked up at what little she could see of the sky. It was a clear night; the stars were out. Tiny little pinpricks shining far, far away, unconcerned of everything happening beneath their watch.

"Do you ever get the feeling that there's something _greater_ out there in the world than all… this?" she said suddenly.

"What? Of all the things there are to talk about right now, you want to talk about the prospect of _God?" _Archer grunted. "You Americans are unbelievable."

"It's just a question."

"A question? You're a journalist, Maddy, everything is questions with you, ja. Take a break once in a while. It would do you good."

"Do you always have to cover everything with some kind of joke?"

"Who said I was joking?" he snapped.

"Who said I was talking about God?" she retorted.

He paused, swearing quietly under his breath. "Maddy," he said, sitting down beside her. "Look at me."

She didn't. "You assume you know me, Archer," she said, "but you really don't. You assume I'm only after a story because I'm a journalist. You assume I want a diamond engagement ring just because I'm a girl from the United States. And because I'm from a middle-class American family, you assume I don't know any better about this situation. You assume I'm no better than a tourist looking for juicy news."

"What brought this on?" he said angrily. "I _didn't_ start this."

She laughed. _"You_ came to talk to _me _first_,_ remember? Then you told me to piss off." She looked around the clearing, and the feeling of being lost in the wilderness finally sunk in. "That really didn't work, did it?"

He didn't smile. "I'm not the only one to make assumptions, Maddy."

She picked up a stick and poked the fire. It had started to die down. "Of course."

She felt his hand on her shoulder. She glanced up; he still looked angry, but not violently so. Not like he had been when the convoy had gone under fire. It was much more of an irritated anger – if such a thing was possible – but it was hard to tell.

He was impossible to read correctly, and it was one of the most frustrating things about him.

"I know what you're doing," he said. "You're out here in the wilderness with some bloke you barely know, and can't trust – for all the right reasons, I'll grant you that. But don't _ever_ make the mistake of making me your story, Maddy. I am _not_ worth it. I do what I need to do, and that's it."

"And finding that diamond is something you 'need to do', is it?" Maddy said, throwing down the stick. It landed in the fire. "Haven't you even considered that it might just be better to leave it alone?"

He snorted. "Ja, that would benefit a whole lot of people, wouldn't it? If I don't find it, someone else will, and people will die for it whether I'm there or not. In the long run, it doesn't matter, does it?"

"Then stop."

"What?"

"You heard me," she said. "Stop. Give it up."

"I can't. It's all I know—"

"No," Maddy interrupted. "It's not. You're so intent on being the worst person you can possibly be, aren't you? Why don't you just let it go?"

Archer glared at her. He started to respond, but cut himself short; he turned around so quickly his boots sprayed dirt towards the fire. The already dying flames went out, suffocated.

"You know I'm dead without that diamond," he said, leaning against the trunk of the tree, refusing to look at her.

Maddy brushed a lock of dirty hair out of her face. "And that's why you told me about Van de Kaap?"

"No, I—" He stopped. The fire was nothing more than glowing embers now, and Maddy could only see a small sliver of him in the moonlight. His fist was clenched. "Diamonds," he said finally. "The whole world is mad for diamonds. They're nothing more than shiny pieces of rock, but everyone wants a piece of them."

"Do you?"

"Do I?" He laughed hoarsely. "A diamond means something. To your lot far away in America, they're some sort of sign of affection or love or whatever the hell you want to call it. To men like Van de Kaap, they're money, and they're much, much more than a means to a rich end – they're a means to be an empire. And all the rest of us, we're affected by the great empire's whims, and we either adapt or die. You talk about desire and what people want, but that's the epitome of desire right there, ja? Everything _you_ know about desire is dead wrong. People don't want love, or family, or friends – those are just stops along the road. Here, people want diamonds. People want money. And at the bottom of the ladder, people want to stay alive. That's all the desire in the world right there."

"I—"

"You may have seen a lot of bad, terrible things in the places you've been, but this is Africa. Don't _assume _you can write one story and understand it all."

She blinked, feeling a little stung. "Then help me understand."

"No."

"Why?"

"I said '_no.'"_

"Give me one good reason," she said stubbornly.

He ignored her. A cloud had passed over the moon; Archer was nothing more than a shadow standing several feet away from her.

Maddy stood up. "You told me one part, Archer," she said quietly. "Now tell me the other. Please."

He sighed, tipping his head back. "What's this really about, Maddy? Is it about what's happening right here, right now, or is it about you trying to change me from what I am?"

"I'm just trying to understand—"

"Ja? You're doing one _hell_ of a bad job." He turned around; in the darkness, she couldn't see him, but she could sense his proximity. "This isn't America," he hissed, seizing her wrist. "It's time for you to grow up and open your eyes. Some things can't be changed, no matter how many people try."

"People can change."

"Huh – idealist, aren't you, ja?"

She wrenched her hand away from his. "Yes. Because at least that leaves a road open, instead of shutting it down forever. Do you know what I see here?"

"No." He paused. "But I get the feeling you're gonna tell me anyway."

"My eyes _are_ open," she continued, talking over him, "and I see a world that's burning. Everyone is lashing out at each other like wounded animals, but they're all too focused on their own injuries to notice the damage they contribute. Then there's those of us who notice, and we can either run from it, ignore it, or try to stop it. Will it make much difference in the long run? Maybe not. The world's too big and too chaotic to care, but it's better to try and fail than to never try at all."

Archer fell quiet for a moment, considering her words. The cloud above passed, and moonlight broke through into the clearing again.

"Huh," he said. "I think I almost deserved that. Almost, but not quite."

"People _can_ change."

"But they won't."

"Doesn't mean it has to stay that way."

"Piss off."

Maddy didn't move.

Neither did Archer.

"Sorry," he said.

"I don't believe you."

"Good. Because that's about as close to an apology you're gonna get."

Maddy raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's better than nothing," she said, turning away.

"Huh? Leaving already?" He seemed genuinely surprised – and a bit disappointed.

"Aren't you the one who kept telling me I need to rest?" Maddy shot back. "Besides, it's not like I won't see you in the morning."

He chuckled faintly. "Ja… of course."

"Good night, Archer."

"Ja." He gave her a mock salute. "Same to you, Maddy."

She patted him on the shoulder and crossed the clearing to her bag, stepping over the remains of the fire as she went. She felt exhausted – her body needed rest, that was for certain – but her mind was oddly rejuvenated. Even as she lay down on the had, cold ground, curling up as tight as possible, her thoughts were spinning through her mind.

She lifted her head. She could just make out Archer, sitting at the foot of the tree now, illuminated in the moonlight. He stared straight ahead, his expression strangely contemplative.

Maddy shook her head and lay back down. _Impossible. But you never do know for sure._

_fin_


End file.
